Pulled Apart
by xXCanadiaXx
Summary: Human AU. The world is at war, and a painful tragedy pulls two boys together. But when Alfred is taken by the police, Matthew is left in a dying world by himself. He finds shelter in the house of Arthur Kirkland, but when his best friend reappears, Arthur is gone and Matthew's life is thrown upside down in more ways than one. One-sided AmeCan and slight one-sided UkCan
1. My New Friend, Alfred

Ten-year-old Alfred stretched, waiting for the icecream truck right up the street to come along, licking his lips with anticipation of the cold treat.

He rolled the five-dollar bil over in his hand as he got ready to burst through the door and flag down the truck. Pressure began to push into his throat and he was tugged away from the window.

"Mom!" He protested as the money flew from his hand and the truck passed his house without so much as a glance in his direction.

"Hush, Alfred, it's hapening again!" His mum growled, and Alfred tugged his shirt from her grasp and tore down the stairs. "Why didn't you say so?" He called up, his feet hitting the cement floor of his bomb cellar just as a deafening explosion hit the house. His mum came tearing down the stairs not half a second too early. She panted while she shut the metal door, and Alfred snapped his fingers.

"One day, I'm gonna jump in a plane and stop this whole war, so nobody else has to die!" He declared, resting his hands on his hips and glaring at his mother. Another deafening explosion occured, followed by a barely audible wail.

"I'm sure you will, honey."His mother told him, enveloping him in a hug. I'm sure you will."

*0*0*0*0*0*0

Alfred went out tne next day to explore his neighborhood. Piles of dirt and shattered glass crunched under his feet as he inspected the still-smoking remains of the cityscape. Some houses, like his own, had been virtually untouched, just mildly charred. Alfred was so engulfed by the horrific scene that henearly tripped over a boy about his age sitting on the sidewalk.

"Whoa, sorry dude!"Alfred apologized loudly. The boy appeared not to hear him, and as Alfred followed his milky violet gaze, he spotted a large pile of rubble. Alfred, being Alfred, strutted forwards to the charred pile and unveiled a picture. The Sidewalk Boy and a family surrounding him stood in the picture, smiling brightly as they stood happily in a field by a barbecue.

The Sidewalk Boy, who's face was nearly unreadable, just stared blankly ahead, his wavy wheaten hair blowing gently in the ash scented wind. Alfred trotted towards him and patted him gently on the shoulder.

The Sidewalk Boy turned to him, eyes still void and full of tears.

"G-gone."he choked out, tears beginning to spill over his eyes. "My family is all gone!"

Despite the anguished shout, his voice was soft, and his clothes were covered in ash and char. Alfred pulled the boy to his feet and brushed the dust from his clothes. "You're okay!" He said brightly, "Right? You're still alive, and that's something to be happy for, right?"

"Y-yes." Sniffed Sidewalk Boy. "I guess so."

"Hey, what's your name?" Alfred asked suddenly. "Matthew." The other boy responded quietly.

"I'm Alfred! And I'm gonna be your new best friend, okay?"

"R-really?" Matthew asked sullenly.

"I said it, didn't I? Come on home with me! We can give you new clothes and fresh water!"

"But, my house..." Matthew whimpered. Alfred handed him the picture. "Come on, Mattie!" He said, already dubbing his new friend, "Mom's making cookies!"

"R-real cookies?" Matthew asked, blushing at the nickname and following Alfred.

"Yup! You can have the most chocolatey one, okay, Mattie? So don't be sad anymore, because you have me to protect you! I'm your hero!"

"Really?"

"Yup!"

"Th-thank you."

*0*0*0*0

Alfred and Matthew were seated under a tree three weeks after Alfred had brought Matthew home. Matthew was gazing at the bright stars in the sky and Alfred was watching him as he pointed them out.

"You can't see them much anymore," Matthew was saying, pointing his finger at the sky, "but there used to be tonnes of brilliant stars in the sky."

"Why can't you see them? "Alfred asked, peering at the sky and squinting through his glasses to try to see the stars.

"There's so much smoke in the sky, Alfred." Matthew whispered unhappily. "Everyone decided that it was a good idea to fight over water and oil and nobody remembered that there are other things in life. The smoke from the bombs has permanently damaged our atmosphere. We can't see to remember what's truly important."

"The stars?"

"The earth. Those in the war think they're fighting to stay alive, but what good is living in a broken-down world?" Matthew asked, pulling his finger away from Polaris and turning to Alfred.

Alfred didn't know how to answer his friend's profound thoughts, so he patted Matthew's hand and shrugged.

"I don't even know what's going to happen, Alfred," Matthew continued, "to us? Are we going to die the same way our families did?"

Alfred's house and his mother had taken the same turn as Matthew's had. The two friends had sulked in the park near Alfred's rubble pile until Alfred uncovered a pile of money and some of Alfred's clothes, and they were now camped in a clearing in a forest. They sat together in the dirt, a faint noise of a running creek whisking by their ears.

"Naw, Mattie. Who bombs a forest?"

"What if they discover the creek and want to kill us for it?"

The creek was their freshwater source.

"Then I'll protect you 'cause I'm your hero!"

"B-but, Alfie...? What if they- I mean, what if you-?"

Tears splished the dirt beside Matthew's lap, and Alfred gave him a tight hug.

"Don't worry, Matt. I'll be with you, by your side forever, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise. "


	2. My Lost Friend, Alfred

"Alfred... what did you do?"

"Matthew... I-I didn't mean to. I swear!"

The two friends, each sixteen years old, stood side-by-side on a dark street turned orange by the glow of street lights. Sticky red liquid pooled around the street-boys' shoes. In Alfred's hand lay a knife, covered in blood that slipped down the blade and wet up his fingers. In front of them both lay the body of a young neighborhood man.

"H-he was attacking you, Mattie, I couldn't just let him hurt you." Alfred protested, wrenching his gaze from the man to look at his best friend, who was coated in his own blood and tears. He had cuts running up his arms and a devious gash in his cheek. His eyes were glazed and full of fear and pain.

"M-Matt?"Alfred asked quietly.

"I understand, Al. It's just, what did I do? Why did he-"

"It's not your fault, Mattie! "Alfred growled firmly. "People are just sick and twisted."

"B-but, what happens now, Alfie?" Matthew asked his best friend, peering at him through the blood he'd wiped into his eyes. Alfred shook his head and dropped the knife. It had been the one the man had been using to hurt Matthew. He bent down and scooped up his friend, and turned to run.

"For now I'm still your hero, and I still have to protect you."

"What if they get you?" Matthew whined.

"They won't."

"A-Alfie?"

"What is it, Mattie?"

"I don't know how to tell you this properly... and maybe now isn't the time."

"You can tell me anything, Mattie." Alfred said, voice shaking as he ran with his friend cradled in his arms.

"O-okay. I -I l-"

His voice was cut off by a loud wailing of police sirens.

"Someone called them on you!" Matthew wailed. Alfred said nothing, just tore on. The sirens began to get louder, and soon the car, lights flashing madly, was driving beside them.

"Stop; police!" Was called through a speaker. Alfred didn't even think, just turned and slowly lowered his bleeding friend into a bush on some lady's lawn.

"Alfie, what are you doing?" Matthew asked frantically.

"They don't need to catch you too."

"Alfie! You can't let them get you!"

"I'm the hero, remember? With great power comes great responsibility? "

"B-but, Al!"

"Mattie, if I stay any longer, they'll find you!"

"Alfie!"

"I'll find you again, I promise!"

With that, Alfred whipped around and almost ran straight into the arms of two policemen. They shouted about something Matthew couldn't hear, and then they clamped handcuffs over Alfred's wrists and shoved him ungracefully into the policecar.

"B-but Al..." Matt whispered as the car swerved and drove away.

"I love you."


	3. My New Friend, Arthur

Six Months Later

Matthew had stopped counting the days since Alfred was taken. Stopped trying to find police stations and jails where they were likely keeping his best friend. Matthew thought about Alfred so much every day that it made him sick. His dirty-blond hair that perfectly matched his azure eyes that always shone. His bright, positive attitude and the way that he was so selfless, though he seemed selfish.

Matthew sighed and shook his head, telling himself to stop being a girl about Alfred. Quickly he scarfed down some bread that he took from a bakers garbage and shifted down the street slowly. He never left the town where Alfred and he had lived together for six years, because when he tried, memories and feelings jusg made him stoop, crying, by the border. He cursed himself for being so weak, but just returned to the forest every night and pointed out stars to himself.

Matthew walked out into a cleared space in the battle-scarred town, and shyly waved at one of the town's few inhabitants. No one had ever found out that he had been part of Alfred' arrest, only that 'Hey, that looks like the boy who killed Mr. Perkins! Should we call the police?' No one really knew how wonderful and kind Alfred had been. Only that he was a murderer and... and...

Matthew's sensitivity exploded. He collapsed on someone's lawn and sobbed into his hands. He cried until someone came out and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt you, lad, but you seem distressed."The voice attatched to the hand spoke in a soothing British accent. Matthew lifted his head from his hands and turned slowly. The man was giving him an awkward half-smile. His spiky hair was sandy-blonde and is eyes were emerald green, and above them were rather prominent eyebrows. On his shirt was a drip-paint-style Union Jack.

Embarrassed and terrified, Matthew jumped up. He hadn't made physical contact with anyone since Alfred had left him in the bushes. The man was taken aback, and drew up his hands in defense.

"I won't hurt you."

"I'm sorry!" Matthew blurted.

"For what?"

"For sitting on your lawn, for startling you, I-I-" The apologies were automatic, but smothered by a finger in his line of vision. The brit had held up a finger to stop his incessant rambling. Matthew gave an apologetic bow and smiled.

"That's quite alright, lad. If you'd like to come on inside you can get cleaned up and have a cup of tea, alright?" He offered. Matthew hesitated, but nodded; this guy seemed nicer than he looked.

"Brilliant. I'm Arthur, by the way, Arthur Kirkland. I'm eighteen."

"M-Matthew Williams. Seventeen. Pleased to meet you."

0*0*0*0*0*0

Inside, the house looked like the queen was bunking with a punk rocker. There were flag tapestries of several countries: USA, Hong Kong, Canada, India, and Australia to name just a few, and teacups lining the counter. Metal and rock CDs lay across a stereo which had been paused recently.

"Excuse the mess." Arthur apologized, setting a kettle on the stove and washing out a pair of teacups and two saucers.

"Go ahead and sit down, Matthew. "Arthur invited, fixing the teas. Matthew sat down with a thank you, and watched Arthur as he fixed the tea and carried it over. Matthew accepted it gratefully, happy to fill himself with something other than burnt garbage bread. Arthur waited for Matthew to finish, before asking,

"Sorry to intrude, but may I ask why you were on my lawn crying?" His green eyes were inquisitive and caring, and he let Matthew take his time before he responded.

"My best friend, Alfred. He was arrested six months ago and I-I can't find him again."

"The boy who killed Perkins?" Arthur asked, sitting up straight.

"Well, yes, but it wasn't like that! Perkins attacked me, and Al was protecting me, is all!" Matthew whined. Arthur shook his head.

"No need to be defensive. I was simply asking."

Matthew blushed in embarrassment and put his teacup down. The two continued to talk; the topic strayed from Alfred and they spoke for quite a while, until Matthew yawned in the middle of a sentence.

"Are you tired, Matthew? " Arthur asked. "If you'd like I'll drive you home."

"S-sure. Thank you."

"Where is it tha you live?" He asked, standing and taking so e keys from a rack by the door. Mathew couldn't stop the honest answer from slipping out of his mouth.

"In the park up the street." He said, and then slapped his hand over his mouth.

"The park!?" Arthur yelped, slamming his keys back onto the rack and shutting the door he'd been beginning to open. "That won't do. I have a guest bedroom. You can sleep there for a while."

"B-but-"

"Go upstairs. The third door on the left is a shower. I'll lay out some pyjamas for you."

"A-Arthur-"

"Go." Arthur commanded. Matthew submitted and trudged up the stairs. He found the bathroom and immediately climbed into the shower, delighted at the hot water cleaning his skin. He rinsed the dirt from his hair and shampooed it, then rinsed out the sudsy product and shut off the water. When he emerged from the shower, he found a towel and a pair of red flannel pyjamas. He toweled himself off and put on the clothes. He placed the towel in the hamper that was beside the toilet and discovered a note reading that Arthur had thrown out his old clothes. Good riddance, Matthew thought, because those clothes were small, ripped and dirty. Matthew left the bathroom, embarrassed beyond all belief, and met Arthur in the kitchen, where heavy metal music was playing softly and Arthur was washing dishes.

"Hello, Matthew. Are you terribly hungry?"

"No, tnank you." Matthew lied skillfully. He didn't want Arthur to have to do more work to shelter him.

"Then you can pop on off to bed, love. Go on."

Canada nodded and issued a good night to his new caretaker before he went upstairs and slipped into the bedroom that conatined nothing but a bed, a lamp and a nigtstand. He slid under the red sheets and immediately began to nod off.

He just solely wished that Alfred was here to enjoy the comfort with him.

**A/N: Okay, anyone can see I'm obsessed with Gentleman/Polite!England, though I tried to keep his bossiness. Maple do good? This is my first time writing England... I think I failed...**


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